The rumble of the plane passing through the dark sky, a shudder from the wings, and a turbulent bump wakes you from your broken sleep. Trying to sleep on this rollercoaster flight with the uncomfortable seat and the dry, recirculated air makes you want to scream. Placing the cheap Mills and Boon romance novel in the back of the aeroplane seat, you see the other passengers sleeping. Some blinds are down, but you see the dark sky hurtling around the plane through the open windows. "I hate night flights," you think to yourself. You rarely sleep, particularly when sandwiched in the middle seat between your Child and your husband. You need to stretch your legs and calm an unquenchable thirst with a cool drink, and a pee wouldn't go amiss either.
Your husband sleeps beside you, his head down and tightly wrapped in their blanket, snoring. As you watch his body, sat bent and twisted, the thought of a carnival peep show comes to mind, a contortionist or gymnast all scrunched up tight and small. Your hand touches the hard rubber of the armrest between you and him, and you stand, turn, and start the dance of the insomniac on a plane. To move without waking those around you. You turn, face the back of your chair, and manoeuvre over your husband. You are desperately trying not to wake them. You feel your calf and thigh brush past his legs. Finding yourself straddling him, you can help but consider that if this were a page from your Mills & Boon or perhaps ten years earlier, he would wake up and kiss you, letting his hands move over you in the dark. Your hands grip the seat back, and as you lift your leg over him, you feel him stir under you before you finally reach the aisle.
In the dark gloom, you shake your legs and walk towards the front of the plane, stopping at the mid-gally in search of a glass of water. On the counter, the stewards have set aside some sips of water, snacks and cookies that you presume are for your convenience so that you can sit and chat on the other side of the galley. Reaching out for a glass of water, you get the sensation of being watched. Stood on the other side of the Galley pass is a tall man in his late 40s with a solid and muscular physique. You find yourself captivated as you watch him run his hands through his wavy salt and pepper blond hair, his dark eyes set upon his phone, as he sips from a plastic tumbler. Looking up, he notices you and smiles.
"Hello," he says in a bright yet hushed voice. "Can't you sleep either?"
"Hi. No," you stutter, your mind not prepared for a conversation.
"I'm guessing the turbulence woke you too. It surprises me that everyone else can sleep through the bumps," he says, taking the opportunity to click his phone shut.
You nod, suddenly finding yourself a little tongue-tied.
"It definitely makes it hard to get comfy," he continues.
The conversation is brief, and you feel a little awkward. It's strange how similar he is to the lead male from your romance novel. He is pleasant and easy to talk to. His good looks certainly help the conversation along, and he has this mesmerising cheeky smile whenever he finishes talking that infectiously makes you smile. He listens well and is genuinely engaged in what you have to say. Most surprising of all, you find yourself thinking that if you were just a decade younger, you would be working harder to work the connection that is appearing between you both. You are an educated and witty individual with excellent conversational skills, so if you wanted, you could be quite seductive and alluring to those around you.
"Do you know what it is like to have insomnia? I always struggle to sleep when I fly," he asks you, his phone resting in his lap.
You feel the weight of his eyes upon you, and you realise he has been watching you sip at your water. You hold the glass with your hand against your chest, just below your throat, and notice the pink of your flesh that has been exposed through the undone buttons on your dress. He is not subtle in his attention, and you start to feel your face grow warm.
"No," you reply.
"Oh, it is no fun, trust me. I've been on planes for years and can't ever get comfortable," he tells you, tapping his leg.
You are in awe that he is talking to you and have much to say back, but you find yourself tongue-tied as the flight continues. In truth, you just don't want him to leave your side. His name is Oliver, and he is flying home from a family vacation in the States. He was there for two weeks. He also seems happy to talk to you and genuinely interested in your life. You learn that he lives in a town just a few miles away from you and is in his early 40s. You share the small details of your life. You have had a similar vacation visiting many of the same tourist sights and feel the same tiredness that comes from travelling with family. You ask him how long he thinks the flight will last.
"Another couple of hours, I think," he replies, checking his watch.
"I can't wait to get home," he says. "Me too," you reply before continuing. "Then I have to get the family sorted before we rejoin the human race." for some reason, deep down, you instantly regret mentioning the family. You're not sure you want him to know you're not travelling alone, which is ridiculous in retrospect as you have been babbling on about your vacation with them. What does it matter that you're not on your own? Nothing is going to happen. You're married with a child. Yet the regret is because you don't want this moment to stop. You don't want the fantasy running through your head to be ruined by the reality that you have a family. That, though, creates a marvellous tingle in your panties.
You sip your water and return the glass to your chest. His eyes follow it down before returning to your face. He smiles just as you find yourself biting your lower lip somewhat seductively. The thought comes tumbling through your mind like a steam train. 'What am I doing? I won't start chatting this guy up; my family is six rows back.'
The burning desire between your legs grows, forcing a crimson flush across your face. "I am sorry I was on my way to the restroom. It's been lovely talking to you." the reasonable adult in you finding an excuse to do the right thing.
"Nice talking to you too. Maybe we can talk again later?" he responds and adds." If you sneak forward, there is a full-sized toilet near the front of the plane. I don't think anyone will notice or even care if you use it at this time of the night."